Molten pewter locked onto her with laser intensity. “I like you any way I can get you.”
“I believe you.” And didn’t that just make her want to do this more? Pressing against his knees, she asked, “Widen your legs for me?”
“You want to be in charge this time?” he asked, not sounding bothered by the fact. And not merely curious, either. More like intrigued.
“I want to experiment.” Did that sound bad? “You’re not just an experiment for me,” she hastened to add.
“I know that.” He let his thighs fall open, giving her an unhindered view of his rapidly growing erection and heavy balls below it. “I am at your disposal.”
“So polite.” Any mockery she’d meant to infuse her tone with was lost in her delight at his clear willingness to let her explore.
“For you.”
“It’s always just for me, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” No doubt in his tone or expression.
She was special to him and despite his jaundiced view of relationships, he didn’t hesitate to let her know it.
How was she going to keep any part of her heart from fixating on this man?
Unable to hold back any longer, Romi reached out and ran her finger down the hardening shaft and over the wrinkled skin lightly dusted with hair below. “It’s so soft.”
“This is what you call soft?” he asked teasingly, running his own hand over his engorged member. “It feels pretty hard to me.”
Her breath caught at the sight. “I didn’t mean that.”
“No?” He let his hand fall away and laid both hands to rest on the arms of the chair, opening his body in an even more blatant invitation to her touch.
She shook her head, unable to form a verbal answer.
He was so perfect. So delicious. And so incredibly tempting. A temptation she had no impetus to hold back from giving in to.
Romi reached out to touch him again, this time like he had. She curled her fingers around his steel-hard shaft. She loved the way he filled her hand, how his silky smooth skin felt so hot against the palm of her hand and pads of her fingers.
Running her hand up and down the intimate column of flesh, she elicited a low groan from him.
“I like touching you.”
His grin was feral, triumphant, not amused. “I know, dorogaya.”
She really loved the way he’d shifted to the more intimate endearment when they were making love.
And this was making love every bit as much as when he was buried inside her body. For her anyway.
She didn’t know how he saw it, but she felt that same soul-deep connection.
Romi continued to run her hand up and down his erection until he was moaning steadily, tilting his hips up in silent supplication. She totally understood in that moment how exciting he could find giving pleasure to his lovers.
To her.
Seeing him react to her touch impacted her own desire like a matchstick to a bucket of gasoline.
Drunk on the power in a way wine never impacted her, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his erection. Pearly liquid had formed and smeared on her lips. She flicked her tongue out to taste it. He groaned and swore in Russian.
“I like how you taste.” She licked the remaining pearly liquid from her lips.
“I’m glad.”
She dipped her head and did it again, this time tasting directly from the source. Salty. Sweet. Maxwell. A moment of intimacy she never wanted to know with another man.
Which said a lot about the choice she insisted she hadn’t yet made.
Ignoring that thought, she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the circumference.
The sound that came out of Max was pure, visceral, primitive need. So, she kept doing just that, laving his bulbous tip with her tongue, bringing forth more sounds of passion and masculine pleasure.
“Move your hand on the shaft and suck.” It was both masculine demand and plea.
Never had Romi heard instructions given in a tone of such raw desire.
No thought of denial entered her head. She gave him exactly what he asked for and discovered she enjoyed doing it. Very much.
No surprise there. She loved everything about touching this man.
Suddenly his hands were in her hair, tugging at her head. “Stop, Romi…please, dorogaya. You must stop.”
She pulled back with reluctance and looked up at him. He shook his head, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. “I’m too close to coming.”
“Uh-huh.” That was the point, wasn’t it?
“You aren’t ready for that. You may never want to taste me to that extent.”
“Oh.” She’d liked it so far, but she’d heard that a man’s ejaculate was bitter.
Maybe it was a stronger flavor when he came?
She stopped her musing when he took both lapels of the silk dress shirt she wore in his hands and very deliberately, very slowly, pulled them apart so buttons and fabric gave.
Unbearably turned on, she did not move as he reached out to cup her small breasts, abrading her nipples with his thumbs. “You were made just for me.”
That wasn’t something she would ever deny. She wasn’t the one who thought it was inevitable they would one day separate.
He sure wasn’t thinking of separating right now.
He was thinking about her, his pewter gaze filled with desire for her, like she was all he could see.
With impressive strength that turned her on even more, he lifted her into his lap. Romi’s knees fell to the sides of his thighs, his hands on her bottom holding her exactly where he wanted. Her own hands landed against his chest and she perched there, her body exposed for him.
He tugged her close to rub her soft, wet intimate flesh against his imposing hardness. Her clitoris met that hard masculine column of flesh, and pleasure jolted through her. He rocked his pelvis, stimulating the bundle of nerve endings until her breath was sobbing in and out in a vain effort to keep up with the speed of her heart.
She could climax like this, too easily. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
Romi shifted with intent…Max lifted and tilted her…and then she was sliding down over him, her body once again stretching to accommodate his size. Encasing him in her most tender flesh, Romi held Max inside her, their physical connection complete.
The only sound between them their harsh breathing, hard fingers guided her hips into movement. “Come on, dorogaya. Move for me.”
She obeyed because she couldn’t do anything else, lifting and lowering her hips with jerky enthusiasm. Romi let him lead her into a rhythm that pleasured them both, bringing little bursts of ecstasy with every downward thrust of her hips and long moaning pleasure with every rise upward.
He praised her efforts until they climaxed again almost simultaneously, his rigidity and loss of control sending her over the edge into pure, unadulterated ecstasy. They froze there together in a tableau of rapture, her body slick with sweat, his pupils blown from sensation.
She didn’t know how long they were like that, but eventually, Romi let herself fall forward and he caught her. Like she knew he would.
Max cradled her close against his body, his breathing still as harsh as her own. “We forgot the condom.”
“Again,” she panted.
“The fi
rst time we did not forget.”
She didn’t quibble. She had forgotten. He’d been looking to give her what she needed the first time they made love.
“Hopefully, it will be okay. It’s the wrong time in my cycle.” Her period had just ended a couple of days ago. She shouldn’t be ovulating yet. She remembered that much from health class.
“We will be more careful.”
She nodded against his chest. “Maybe we should keep condoms around the bedroom.”
“Around the penthouse, more like.”
She grinned where he could not see her, inordinately proud of herself. He thought they would lose control in just any room at any time. From a man of his controlling temperament, that was the ultimate compliment.
“You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” he asked, a smile in his own voice.
“Well, your vaunted control hasn’t been so much in evidence,” she said modestly.
He laughed and it was only as she heard the rich sound and felt it rumble in his chest did she realize how wrongly he could have taken her words, or simply how offended he could have gotten. Because control really was a thing for this man.
“You put my control to the test. That is true.”
“Does that make us very compatible or not very?” she asked, tongue in cheek, certain of the answer, not even a little bit worried.
“As if you did not know.” He tilted her head up so their gazes met. “You’re a handful, you know that?”
“I’m aware.”
“Your father spoiled you.”
“Sweet, not rotten. That’s what Dad always said. He spoiled me sweet, not rotten.”
Max’s warm smile said he might just agree with the older Grayson.
* * *
Harry Grayson called at nine and cried when he spoke to Romi, but he made a promise, too. He promised to dry out and to try to make the program work.
“I know it’s hard for you,” she offered.
He made a sound of disagreement that surprised her until the words that followed. “Not as hard as losing my daughter to my weakness would be.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“At some point watching me destroy myself would hurt too much to stay.”